


Yellow Fever: Coda

by BlueNeutrino, MikanMayMay



Series: A Hunter's Heart in an Angel's Hands [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s04e06 Yellow Fever, Gen, Heartbeats, Implied Relationships, Pre-Slash, Stething
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:44:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNeutrino/pseuds/BlueNeutrino, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikanMayMay/pseuds/MikanMayMay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laying in bed doesn’t seem to help. Nothing he’s done so far has, anyways. All he wants is just some reassurance, shake off the nightmarish hell that was today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Fever: Coda

**Author's Note:**

> Written for me (BlueNeutrino) by the awesome MikanMayMay. Give her some love, because she's not posted her work publicly before and she's a fantastic writer. Posted as part of this series by request.

Laying in bed doesn't seem to help. Nothing he's done so far has, anyways. All he wants is just some reassurance, shake off the nightmarish hell that was today. Dean pushes himself off the bed, moving faster than he intended to, but he needs to get away before he just reaches into his chest and pulls out the relentlessly pounding organ inside.

His rapid movements surprise his brother sitting at the sorry excuse for a dining table. "Dean? You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just gonna go for a drive," Dean replies, not daring to make eye contact with him as he grabs his keys. He can't risk telling Sam about his hallucination, the sudden eye color change, and he knows he's so close to spilling but he holds himself back and shuts the motel room door behind him.

He doesn't know how long he's been driving once he pulls over off the highway and into a quiet area amidst trees. All he can think about is how his heart is trying so hard to make its presence known while he reaches for the med kit underneath the back seat, shuffling through the contents until he pulls out a simple but professional enough stethoscope.

Dean wastes no time in fitting in the earpieces and unbuttoning his shirt, eager to hear what his heart wants to so badly say and hopefully try to soothe back to its resting state. Placing the chestpiece over his breastbone, he can instantly hear the frantic thumping of his heart.

_Badumbadumbadumbadumbadum…_

He gasps at the sound meeting his ears, fear starting to course through him until he realizes that _c'mon man, get your shit together._ Moving the metal disk further down his chest, he keeps the chestpiece pressed tightly against his skin while he lets his hand splay across his chest so that he can feel the movement of his heart beneath his palm. Dean leans back into the worn leather seat, letting his eyes slip closed as he focuses on breathing deeply in order to quell the chaos in his chest.

Meanwhile, Dean's mind wanders. He thinks about how it was a close call on that case, almost dying again after just coming back. Would there have been another angel to pull him out of the pit again? Would it have been the same one, this "Castiel" character? _What an actual prick…he's got like, the biggest stick up his ass, thinks he's all high and mighty because he's an "Angel of the Lord,"_ Dean muses. _Angel my ass..._

"Dean."

The hunter looks over from the corner of his eyes to see said angel, speak of the devil, sitting next to him, and Dean gives an involuntary jerk. "Jesus Christ, Cas, don't just…do _that_ , alright?"

"Apologies." Cas' scrutinizing eyes roam over Dean's face, searching for any signs or clues, but then his gaze falls to the stethoscope still pressed to his chest. "Is there something wrong with your heart?"

Dean gives him an incredulous look, unsure of what exactly to tell him. "Yeah, Cas, there is," he replies, trying to inject as much disdain and sarcasm as he can. "Run in with a buruburu, infected the whole town with a ghost sickness, including yours truly." Dean sighs. "And you know what? They all died because their hearts gave out, and I came way too close to that. And now it won't…just, calm _down_."

Cas doesn't say anything; he just gives him a studious expression, his eyes practically probing into Dean's chest as if he's trying to actually see his heart. Not making eye contact with Dean, the angel moves to pry the stethoscope out of Dean's hands and put it on himself, moving the chestpiece around with much more expertise than the hunter. It takes less than a second for Cas to hear Dean's heart start racing and pounding faster.

_Baboombaboombaboombaboombaboombaboom…_

"What the hell, Cas…?"

"Breathe, Dean."

"What…?"

" _Breathe._ Your heart rate's too fast."

Dean scowls as he reluctantly complies with the angle's orders, but forcing his lungs back into a normal in-and-out routine is much harder than he thought, and he ends up gasping as he tries to force air back in. He clenches his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing, but then he feels a warm, foreign yet somehow familiar hand pressed to his chest, and his eyes fly open and turn to see Cas, his palm pressed over Dean's heart.

Dean tries to protest, but he's stopped by a sudden wave of warmth washing through his chest. Though it feels like an eternity of having this strange sensation of _literally having his heart controlled Jesus Christ what the actual fuck is Cas doing_ , it only lasts a few minutes. He sits up straighter and presses his own hand over his heart as soon as Cas pulls his away, and he's surprised by the lack of the fierce drumming in his chest.

"Cas, what did…"

"I used my grace to slow down your heartbeat, Dean. You were nearing an arrhythmia, which is when your heart…"

"I know what that is, Mister Know-it-all," Dean scowls. "The important question is, why? You said it yourself, that you're not here to "perch on my shoulder" or whatever."

"Nothing has changed."

"Then _why_?"

Cas leans in closer. "Do you think I'd let you slip away so easily again? After I pulled you out from Hell, do you think I'd risk going back in there a second time, when it's not the Lord's will?"

Dean remains silent.

"And what would that make me? An angel who can't keep the measly human he rescued out of Hell?" Cas pauses, watching Dean's wide eyes. "Do not misunderstand me; I am not your guardian angel, Dean. But should you do this again, you might not be so lucky." And with that, he vanishes.

Dean whips his around, looking for where the angel flew off to this time, but Cas is nowhere in sight, and Dean sighs frustratedly. _Damn feathered dick._

Instead of letting his anger at the angel fester, Dean huffs and shakes his head. Finally able to breathe somewhat better, Dean sinks back into his seat, his chest still slightly heaving. Warily, he picks up the stethoscope up again and puts it on, and he breathes a slow sigh of relief as he listens to his heartbeat.

_Ba-dum…ba-dum…ba-dum…ba-dum…_

Dean listens carefully to his steady heartbeat, moving the chestpiece around his chest, relieved that it's finally calmed down. As far as he can tell, there doesn't seem to be any signs of damage; no extra sounds, regular rhythm…

And yet, he can't help but berate himself for yet another close call. He let himself get spooked by that trenchcoated angel _again_ , and even though he reluctantly helped him, Dean hates that he's yet again indebted to this standoffish prick of an angel.

Dean tries to swallow away the tightness building up in his throat. Why must he always be on the brink of the death, to the point where even his heart's telling him to get his act together? He keeps listening, and each heartbeat is a reminder that he's semi-newfound life was essentially not supposed to happen. It's not the natural order, and yet Dean can still heart his heart softly thumping against his chest. As he listens to each consecutive beat, he can't help but think how much his heart's physically gone through, with his electrocution being just the surface. He would never admit it, not even to Sam, but there's been countless cases that have had him concerned about the well-being of the organ.

Dean clenches his jaw. Deep inside, he knows this has to stop, this teetering too close over the brink. The last thing Dean wants is to ruin his second or third or umpteenth chance at life.

It's half past midnight when Dean pulls back into the motel's parking lot. Much to his relief, Sam isn't waiting for him to bombard him with questions, but instead he's retreated to his bed, deep in the throes of blissful sleep, and Dean follows suit.


End file.
